The Fanwalker Chronicles: Origins-Olrest Mond
by Darthrancor1
Summary: An ambitious move to advance his station within the Orzhov launches Olrest Mond into worlds of adventure beyond imagining. Where will his ambition and thirst for more lead him?


**Hello all! This is my first real attempt at writing fanfiction, so any input in the area of grammar will be appreciated.**

 **This is the first story in a small series following a couple of my OC Planeswalkers before they ignite their sparks and their early adventures as planeswalkers. Each of the spotlighted Fanwalkers will be part of the ensemble cast of a larger fanfic that I've already started to plan out.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Magic: The Gathering which is owned by Wizards of the Coast.**

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 **Chapter One: Memories**

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Darkness was everywhere as Olrest's mind recovered from the impact of the saurian beast.

 _I'll give it to Mattuen. He's become one hell of a -_

Pain cut off the rest of the thought as the muscles that encased him constricted, forcing him farther down the beast's throat. While entirely new to Olrest, he knew that he did not like the feeling of being swallowed whole. Cracking his eyes open, Olrest finds only darkness and the golden glow from the protective ward he surrounded himself with just before the saurian monster's jaws closed around him.

 _Lovely,_ he mentally chuckled _Could be worse though_. Gathering all his strength Olrest pushed against the wall of muscle, testing its strength. For a split second it budged, only to slam back hard into Olrest's chest, nearly knocking the wind out of him. _Ugh. That's unfortunate; guess it's time to take the gloves off._

Taking a moment to center himself, Olrest began to gather mana in preparation for a spell. As he began, his mind wandered, _It's been so long, how did he and I even get here?_ As the familiar warmth of mana fills his body, Olrest's mind wanders, back to a time when he and Mattuen were very different yet exactly the same.

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 **3 Years Prior**

While the sun shone bright, it gave little warmth on this Ravnican fall day. The crowds on Tin Street move with extra quickness to spend as little time in the cool air as possible. But two young men walked at a gentle pace, locked in a good-natured yet heated debate.

Olrest Mond, the taller one by half a head, sports a short trimmed dirty blonde mustache and goatee. His similarly colored hair is not too long but looks a little scruffy. His ornate armor glints in the sun with distinct eight-pointed stars, the symbol of the Orzhov, carved onto the pauldrons. An opulent helmet is carried under Olrest's right arm.

Mattuen Mond, the shorter, has a stockier, more muscular build, with short-cut dark brown hair and no facial hair. Despite being shorter Mattuen keeps pace with Olrest's longer strides. His attire is equal parts armor and robes. The green and white designs evoke nature with a large stylized tree across his back marking him as a Selesnian Druid.

"Ok, I'll give you that, Mattuen. But! How do you know your limits if you don't try and push them?" said Olrest.

"It's not about pushing your limits, Olrest. It's about knowing when to stop pushing and letting yourself be content with who you are and what you're capable of," said Mattuen, thumping his chest with a fist. He is visibly starting to get annoyed by his brother.

"Alright, but what if you're not supposed to be content? What if-" Olrest cuts off with an amused smile, looking at the road sign marking the intersection of Tin Street and 2nd Avenue. "

With a sigh, "Looks like we'll have to pick this up another time. I need to go to work and you have that 'cult' thing happening later." Olrest teases with a smirk.

Mattuen, smiling but annoyed, "Haha, very funny. It's not a cult and you know it!" They split, Mattuen going left up 2nd Avenue and Olrest continueing down Tin Street. "One of these times I'll convince you that you're wrong," Mattuen continued shouting back over his shoulder.

Olrest rolls his eyes, "I wouldn't bet on it!" He chuckles to himself. _I'm never gunna understand him_ _._

Right before they leave earshot Mattuen quickly turns around and shouts, "Oh! Olrest! Don't forget about Mom's party Friday night! Mom and dad really really want to see you!"

"I'll do my best to make it, but no guarantees," Olrest shouts.

"No excuses! It's been months since you visited them!" Mattuen shouts just before he disappears around a corner.

Thinking to himself _If all goes well today my appointment as a Syndic will be guaranteed, giving me more control over my time._ Olrest couldn't keep a smile off his face as he took the helmet out from under his arm and placed it over his head and turned off the main path, which lead towards Vizkopa, and down a side path headed towards Coiner's Row.

Quickly darting through back alleys Olrest steps out onto Coiner's Row, a neighborhood dominated by extravagant displays of wealth. Orzohv priests wearing massive jewelry made from outdated coins, thrulls throwing piles of gold coins around next to their master who show no care for where they land, the richest members of Ravnican Society all gathered together shopping, eating and loitering.

Olrest enters his favorite café, Paragon Ingredients, in silence. The hostess at the door gives a warm smile, "Ah, you must be the enforcer Sir Mond contacted us about. Your table is in the back and your tea is ready. Follow me." She leads him through the room to a small table in the back corner and leaves him as he sits down.

Olrest sits and begins to drink his tea in silence for five minutes...

Ten minutes…

Twenty minutes...

Thirty minutes…

Fifty minutes pass when, finally, a shadowy figure materializes in the chair opposite Olrest.

"You're late," Olrest growls, his voice audibly agitated.

"Forgive me, sir. I ran into some … unexpected … delays." The shadowy figure says in a ghostly whisper that is barely audible over the din of the café.

"Your delays may have cost us vital time," Olrest reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a roll of parchment and a pitch black feather quilt. "The contract is set based on the agreement with my employer. All that's needed is your signature." Olrest unrolls the parchment revealing a full contract and hands the quill to the shadowed figure.

As the shadowed figure takes the quill, a look of concern and understanding crosses his partially obscured face, but after a moment of thought, he quickly signs the contract. A tingle flowed up Olrest's neck as the magic of the contract reacts and activates to the blood-red signature on the paper.

Under his helmet, Olrest cocks an eyebrow. _Interesting. It's odd that a Dimir would sign in blood so quickly._ He mentally shrugs. _Guess he is as ambitious as my informant said. Perfect._

"Now that the formalities are taken care of, we can get to business," says Olrest as he stands up and takes the contract and quill and puts them into his messenger bag. The shadowy figure fades from view but his presence is still felt by Olrest as they left the café.

They walked in silence for many blocks until they reached their destination, a moderate-sized apartment off the main thoroughfare hidden in a dark corner off of Lotus Street.

"You still remember the plan, Smoke?" Olrest says in a condescending tone as he turns to look at the location where the Dimir agent's presence is.

"Of course," the ghostly voice drifts through the air, "You keep the target occupied in the front while I slip in the back and search for any intel. If I find none then we interrogate him."

"Good." Olrest turns leaning his back against the ally wall, looking inconspicuous. "You have two minutes to get into position ... starting ...now."


End file.
